


5 Times The Doctor and the Master Couldn't Make It Work, +1 Time They Did

by aunt_zelda



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Arguing, Conflict Resolution, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Love/Hate, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 14:53:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3330140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and the Master (looking like Newton and Hermann) trying to come to an arrangement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times The Doctor and the Master Couldn't Make It Work, +1 Time They Did

**Author's Note:**

> Written for gottliebe on tumblr, who was having a bad day and prompted "Newmann!Doctor/Master AU" and so I promised a fic.

1.

“This is familiar,” the Master says, looking him over. “A bit of the Tenth incarnation, yes?”

The Doctor shrugs. The hair, yes, the energy, yes, but not the voice or the stature. He’s never been quite this small before. It’s rather fun, makes sneaking about that much easier. 

The Master isn’t that much taller. He’s leaning on a jeweled cane, draped in a fur coat. Several goons are lurking nearby. The Master has styled himself a Victorian crime boss this time around, and according to him, the Doctor is an old partner who turned him in to the law when their last job went south. 

“I like it,” the Master smiles with his new frog-like mouth. It’s not a bad look, to the Doctor’s eyes, just … different. At least there’s none of that black goatee anymore, that was fine back then but a third time would just be repetitive. 

“Well, I do as well,” the Doctor grins. “So, if you could just let me out of these ropes –”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” the Master smirks, stepping back. “I’m not falling for that one again. With any luck, your next regeneration will be utterly unappealing.” He signals to the goons. “Pitch him into the river, lads!” the Master grins, affecting an accent. “Only the best for me old mate, John Smith!”

The Doctor escapes, but by the time he returns to the hide out, the Master is long gone. 

 

2.

The planet is teeming with massive monstrous creatures. Dinosaur-like, Godzilla-like, monsters. 

The Doctor is, naturally, running from some of them. 

What is unusual is that the Master is running too. Or, rather, trying his best to run, he lost his cane almost an hour ago and his leg appears to be giving out. 

The Doctor leaps into the TARDIS, which is spinning down the pathway. He turns around and reaches back.

“Take my hand!” he screams, the monsters closing in and the Master lagging. 

The Master does, and the Doctor pulls, and the Master jumps, and the doors slam shut and the TARDIS begins to vworp away. 

The Master kisses him, rough and desperate, and from there it’s a quick matter of getting rid of shoes and shirts and trousers and vests and rolling underneath the console, the Doctor pulling down a blanket to bunch up under the Master’s knee.

They don’t talk afterwards. The Doctor tries, but the Master won’t, just gets dressed and waits by the door. The minute they land, he’s gone. 

 

3.

The Doctor starts getting tattoos pretty quickly. His arms are covered, then his upper thighs, then his shoulders and portions down his ribs. Those hurt, almost as bad as a regeneration, but he puts up with it. He might be wearing this ink for a century or more, it’s more than worth the pain. 

The Master tracks him down to a tattoo parlor on the fourth moon of the first planet in this quadrant discovered by humans. Or perhaps it’s the fifth moon. The Doctor had just searched for a good tattoo parlor, not the specific address. 

“Oi, relax!” the artist snaps, as the Doctor tenses up upon seeing the Master enter the shop. “I’m gonna mess up the outline if you keep twitching!”

“Sorry, sorry …” the Doctor fights to stay still, and calm. 

The Master ignores him completely, limps to the counter and makes an appointment with the first available artist. It’s a small shop, so the Doctor is still there when the Master sits in an empty leather chair and takes off his shirt, exposing his shoulders and back to the artist. 

“Just follow the sketch. I want it here, big and bold,” he glances at the Doctor and smirks, before returning to ignoring him.

The Doctor sees the sketch as the Master’s artist pins it up, and almost vomits. The picture is of Gallifrey, exploding into a dozen pieces. 

The Doctor flees the shop with his new tattoo, but does not feel the usual elation from a new piece. All he can think of is the Master getting that horrible image tattooed onto his skin.

 

4.

“I won’t do it.”

The Master smirks. “What, are you too proud to be one of the lowly apes?”

“It’s not that. I’ve … I’ve done it before. It was horrible.” The Doctor shudders. It was so sad, what happened. And it changed him. He went very dark that day, and he does not like to remember it. 

“Well, we’re out of options. Either we both go into hiding, or we both die.” The Master looks at the pocket watch and sneers. “Much as I am loathe to undergo it myself, it is out only option.”

The Doctor nods reluctantly. It truly is. 

“Well, let’s get these things going.” The Master starts fiddling with the devices. 

They strap themselves in. The Doctor reaches over and holds the Master’s hand, briefly, giving it a squeeze. The Master squeezes back, a soft, fond look on his face, before he yanks his hand away. 

“Earth, July 30th 2013. Should be a pretty uneventful summer, right?” the Doctor asks.

“Probably.” The Master shrugs. 

 

5.

“No Kaiju guts on my side of the lab!” Hermann yells, flicking at them with his cane. 

Newt rolls his eyes. Of all the cramped rooms in the Shatterdome, he had to get stuck in one with Hermann Gottlieb. Typical. The man has atrocious taste in music, swears at him in German (not in a sexy way either), and worst of all, human resources is refusing to receive any of their complaints anymore about each other, so getting reassigned is impossible. 

“Hey, Hermann,” Newt snaps, pulling his samples back up onto his desk, on his side of the line. “Why don’t you ask your dad to build a wall through here? It’d give us each our own lab! Then I wouldn’t have to look at your dumb face all day!”

Hermann turns red and looks about ready to spit ink. “Well at least I don’t eat food that doesn’t belong to me!”

This again. “That wasn’t labeled, how was I supposed to know it was yours?”

“It was labeled!” Hermann slams his cane onto his desk. “New plan. We stay silent for as long as humanly possible.”

“Deal!” Newt growls. 

It lasts approximately two hours and thirty-three minutes, when Newt knocks over a stack of glass sample bottles, spilling Kaiju and embalming fluid all over the floor and into Hermann’s space. 

The ensuing fight is so loud some of the mechanics come to investigate. 

 

+1

When they drift together, what they did is undone. They are themselves again, all of their memories, their lifetimes and regenerations and schemes and triumphs and failures. The location of the TARDIS, hidden safely in a remote area of Kansas, comes back to them at the exact moment. 

They are no longer human. They are Time Lords. 

Around them, humanity celebrates. The Kaiju have been defeated, at last, at long last. The world has been saved. 

They look at each other, hugged and given drinks by people who are their friends, but who can never know the truth, and know what must be done. 

As soon as it is quiet, they sneak away, find the TARDIS, and go to the dimension of those creatures. Blasted by the bomb, they are almost completely destroyed. Some survived, pathetic screaming things begging for mercy. 

Newton never had felt quite right being called “Doctor Geiszler.” The Doctor clings to those remnants of Newton, and takes Hermann’s … no, the Master’s hand, in his.

They destroy the creatures. Wipe them out. Blast their planet into nothingness. 

“How long do you think we can continue as Hermann and Newton?” the Master asks.

“A year, a few years?” the Doctor shrugs. “They’ll be famous. Book deals, public speaking engagements …”

“We could do a lot of good for humanity, as them,” the Master says, tapping his cane on the TARDIS floor.

“Or a lot of bad,” the Doctor points out, with a grin.

The Master smiles thinly. “Well, let’s see where the road takes us.”

The Doctor kisses him. 

The TARDIS takes them back to the Shatterdome.


End file.
